


The Scar on his Face and the Bite on his Side

by Jotun_Half_Breed



Series: A Werewolf's Howl [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Hope Lupin, Bad Parent Lyall Lupin, Gen, Hope Lupin Loves Her Little Boy, Hurt Remus Lupin, I do love Remus really, Lyall is Lycanthrophobic, Moving House, Remus Lupin Needs a Hug, Sorry Not Sorry, Werewolf Bites, Werewolf Discrimination, Werewolf Remus Lupin, Werewolves, Young Remus Lupin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:20:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26775025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jotun_Half_Breed/pseuds/Jotun_Half_Breed
Summary: Remus Lupin had aged decades since he had been bitten. His eyes were darkened, weary and ancient, bruising shadows obtained from many sleepless nights scarring above his cheekbones. His hands quivered slightly against the schoolbag he had clutched to his chest, his feet dragging slightly against the gravelled ground.Remus Lupin is six when his family are first forced to move somewhere more remote because of his condition.
Relationships: Hope Lupin & Lyall Lupin & Remus Lupin, Hope Lupin/Lyall Lupin
Series: A Werewolf's Howl [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1785934
Comments: 7
Kudos: 38
Collections: Werewolves and Lycanthropy





	The Scar on his Face and the Bite on his Side

**Author's Note:**

> And I've finally finished the third instalment of 'A Werewolf's Howl'. Yay! There will be very few of these featuring his childhood before he arrives at Hogwarts, so I'm trying to make the most of this while it lasts.
> 
> Remember to subscribe to this series if you want to get further updates.   
> Stay safe!

The archaic red-brick house stood proudly at the end of the miniature front lawn, the woods which separated it from the outside world promising them an absence of neighbours. The family of three tottered up the road towards it, laden down with bags containing clothes and potion ingredients. From afar, their only accentuating features were the two trunks the parents dragged behind them, but up close one couldn’t have helped but stare at the six-year-old boy between them.

Remus Lupin had aged decades since he had been bitten. His eyes were darkened, weary and ancient, bruising shadows obtained from many sleepless nights scarring above his cheekbones. His hands quivered slightly against the schoolbag he had clutched to his chest, his feet dragging slightly against the gravelled ground. A scar reached across the bridge of his nose, a jagged laceration that marred his freckled face, and his lips were delicate and inflamed.

Lyall Lupin settled an arm around his son’s shoulders, crouching to meet his eyes. “Do you like it?” he asked quietly.

The boy eyed the house warily and shrugged, giving his father a small smile. He knew it didn’t matter whether or not he liked his new house. After all, it was his fault they had had to move. His parents had never told him this to his face, but he was smart enough to understand that the scar on his face and the bite on his side was the reason they were here. 

“Yeah,” he lied easily. “It looks cosy.” 

Lyall grinned with relief, kissing his son’s forehead and patting him on the back.

“Why don’t you go ahead and check out your room?”

The boy nodded sweetly and stumbled over the path, through the gate and the open front door. This house was smaller than their old one, but it was cleaner. None of his father’s paperwork littered the few surfaces available -yet- and cutouts from shady newspapers and magazines discussing potential cures for lycanthropy were nowhere in sight. The high shelves were not clustered with potions of various pigments and thicknesses. The kitchen table was clear, the walls bare and the rooms barren at best. Remus crept through the building, eyeing the different rooms warily until he finally found the one he was looking for. 

It was hardly the most luxurious of quarters, but there was a bookshelf pressed against the far wall and the bed was much comfier than his own. He laid his backpack down onto the mattress, unzipping it and pulling out his small collection of books. They were mostly Muggle fiction, but his father had given him a book on magical theory for his last birthday, which he placed carefully at the forefront of the bookshelf to be read that evening. The rest of the books were stacked side by side on the middle shelf, leaving the other shelves bare. He slid his bag onto the bottom shelf and left the room with a practised silence that came with years of eavesdropping on his worried parents. 

I didn’t take him long to find the door to the basement, already charmed and enchanted in anticipation of the upcoming full moon. He nudged it open with his foot, peeking down the darkened stairs and into the murky blackness below. Stepping in, he left the door open a crack before edging down the small flight of stairs, into the room below. The stagnant air hung around his head, weighing the small boy down with unspoken promises of pain and screams and unheard cries for help. This room was not going to be a happy place. 

Remus tiptoed towards the furthest wall, running his fingers along the smooth surface. There were no windows to be boarded, no walls to be reinforced, no floorboards to replace with concrete. Once the boy had groped his way around the outside of the room, he bit his lip, carefully moving through the darkness, back up the stairs.

“Remus?” The six-year-old heard his dad calling him and winced. “Remus, where are you?”   
  


The boy tripped as he hurtled up the stairs, but scrambled back to his feet just as the door burst open before him. 

“Remus,” Lyall grabbed him, lifting him into his arms and holding him tight. “I was worried!”

Remus flinched, lowering his gaze in shame. “Sorry, dad,” he whispered, burying his face in the man’s shoulder.

“It’s all right,” Lyall said with a sigh. “What were you doing down there anyway?”

The boy bit his lip guiltily. “Wolf wanted to visit his room.”

The man froze, his arms tightening around his werewolf son. “What did you say?”

“Wolf wanted to visit his room,” Remus repeated, unaware of his father’s sudden change in emotion.

There was a tense silence. 

“Hey! There you are!”

Hope Lupin skidded into the room, a smile enveloping her face as her eyes fell upon her husband and child. “Remus!” she laughed. “There you are. Have you been exploring? This place is beautiful, isn’t it?”

The young werewolf smiled and slipped out of his father’s arms, running to hug his mother. “Yes, it is. Can we go for a walk in the woods?”

Hope grinned. “Of course, love. Go get your boots on. I’ll be right out after you.”

Remus nodded, skipping away from his mother, the fake smile slipping off his lips with ease as he pulled on his blue welly boots. The rubber squeaked between his trembling fingers and he took a deep breath to calm himself before sneaking back in the direction of his parents, peeking through the gap in the door to spy on them.

“Lyall,” his mother hissed. “He’s six years old. He was bound to try to find some way to deal with this, some way to separate it from himself. Stop acting like he’s not our little boy anymore!”

“You didn’t hear him!” His father growled. “I’ve met werewolves that speak like that. Those are the ones that become killers, that become the monsters that we all fear!”

She hushed him hastily and pulled away from her husband, eyes narrowed. “I am going for a walk with my son, Lyall. When you’ve decided to see reason, maybe you can join us.”

Remus scurried backwards as Hope stormed from the room, wiping tears from her face. She froze as she noticed her son, standing wide-eyed a few feet away from the door. “Remus, honey, you didn’t… Did you hear…” 

She hesitated and seemed to rethink asking him. “Come on, love,” she wrapped him and a tight hug. “Let’s go for that walk. Your father might join us later.”

Her son nodded sadly and hesitantly took her hand, his tiny fingers becoming engulfed in hers. Hope sighed, releasing all of her anger at her husband in one breath and forcing herself to plaster a perfect mask of joy onto her face. 

The rest of the day was spent in the safe confines of the woods, trampling through thickets of undergrowth, creating murals from fallen leaves and sticks, and splashing in the stream until their clothes were soaked all the way through. They stayed there until the sun was beginning to set, both silently hoping that they would be joined by Lyall. Every snap of twigs, every flutter of wings as a bird took flight, sent Remus spinning around, desperately trying to locate his father in the shadows behind trees and bushes. 

And yet, despite the ache that was forming in his chest, despite the desperate wolf that was tearing at his heart, Remus’ father did not join them. And the little werewolf knew that it was all his fault. Because the scar on his face and the bite on his side were the reason that his father hated him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> If you feel like commenting, please do! I take constructive criticism really well! 
> 
> If you have any ideas for future stories, especially before he goes to Hogwarts, please tell me! I'd love to get more ideas for this time period.
> 
> Stay safe!


End file.
